


Kaleidoscope

by MauveCat



Series: A Year in the Life [2]
Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26123362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MauveCat/pseuds/MauveCat
Summary: Estela takes Taylor to meet her uncle.
Relationships: Estela Montoya/Main Character (Endless Summer)
Series: A Year in the Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885183
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Kaleidoscope

**NOVEMBER**

Carefully, hesitantly, Taylor reached out a single finger and pressed a piano key. She was rewarded with a soft note that ended too soon. Frowning to herself, she tried again... better. And now a chord. C major. She lifted her other hand to the keyboard – no. That wasn’t right. She changed the position of her wrists... was that better? ( _yes. Quite good_ ) She began feeling out a tune that she didn’t remember learning, winding her way among the notes, trying to find the sense in them.

She stopped playing when she heard Diego’s voice from the kitchen. “Look, Markus, that’s really flattering, but I don’t write movies, I write _about_ movies. Why would you want me to – no. Markus, no! I’m not a screenwriter and I’m not going – look, you can send me whatever you want to, that doesn’t mean I’m going to – what? No! I didn’t agree to anything! Markus? Damn it, Markus!” Coming into the living room, he flopped dramatically on the couch. “I should _not_ have answered that call,” he muttered. “I knew it was going to be a bad idea, but did I listen to myself? I did not. This is going to end in tears. Probably mine.”

“What’s wrong?” Taylor asked as she turned around on the piano bench.

Tossing his phone aside, Diego shook his head. “Most directors _hate_ bad reviews. Markus von Groot, on the other hand... I called his latest movie an unholy cross between _James and the Giant Peach_ and an Italian giallo film. And I might have said the costuming was less convincing than my high school’s production of _Camelot_ the year our principal coincidentally showed up with a brand-new Porsche.” He sighed. “I thought he was calling to scream at me. I almost didn’t answer but I didn’t want him to think I’m afraid of him. I mean, I _am_ but he doesn’t need to know that. At any rate, he wasn’t even a little upset that I hated the movie. He says that everyone hated it, but I hated it in a way that shows I understand his process and what he was trying to do. Now he wants me to co-write a movie with him and he’s sending a rough draft to my agent – who, by the way, I am seriously going to yell at for giving Markus my phone number in the first place. Man, just when I thought my life was getting back to normal....”

“Considering that your husband is blue and your best friend is an alien simulacrum, I don’t think ‘normal’ is going to be anywhere in your future,” Taylor said, joining Diego on the couch.

“That’s a fair point. Why’d you stop playing? You sounded really good.”

Rather than answering, Taylor nodded toward the piano. “How does it stay in tune? I don’t think a tropical climate is good for the strings, is it?”

Diego grinned. “Normally, no. But two years ago, Grace and IRIS put their heads together to surprise Aleister for his birthday. That thing has filaments running all through the innards and they somehow keep the humidity at a constant level so the strings don’t get all saggy.”

IRIS again. It was difficult for Taylor to comprehend the ease with which her friends all treated the AI as if she were a real person. Then again, it wasn’t as if Taylor was in much of a position to criticize.... “Let me guess – Grace didn’t keep the patent for the design, did she?”

“No, for once she’s keeping the patent. She’s also keeping track of all the profits and turning them into music scholarships, though. And don’t think I didn’t notice that you haven’t answered my question. Why did you stop playing?”

Taylor stared at the piano. “Because I... I shouldn’t have been able to play in the first place,” she said reluctantly. “I never took a single lesson. I shouldn’t be able to play a piano, or write a computer program, or know what a giallo film is. When Estela was getting the speedboat ready this morning for her trip with Mike up to the airfield, I almost started giving her advice on how to insert the fuel cells. I’d never even seen one a few weeks ago, but I could probably tell you the most efficient way to use them. I know so many things, but I didn’t learn a single one of them. Everything about me is borrowed from someone else.”

Diego started to speak; then, with a sigh, he took Taylor’s hand. She tried not to flinch as she felt the ridge of scar tissue along the side of his palm. “I guess there’s nothing I can say to make you feel better about that, is there?”

“Nope. It’s just... I look at all of you and you’re all so – so accomplished. Then I look at myself and I know some of what all of you know, but it’s all in bits and pieces and I have no idea how I’m supposed to fit those scraps together. I just wish I had something of my own.” She laughed a little. “At least I’ll have a phone of my own. Jake said he’s bringing one down for me along with my passport – it sounds like Zahra put all kinds of safeguards and encryption on it?”

“Yeah, she does that for all of us. She’s a little paranoid about somebody trying to track us, so don’t even think about downloading any games or apps unless she’s cleared them. Seriously. Just don’t.”

Taylor looked over at him. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“It was just one of those stupid little tappy games! I had it on my phone for two hours and then blip, it disappeared. Ten seconds later Zahra was on the phone yelling at me. And three minutes after she hung up, the game was back because she’d had a chance to check it out – oh, geez, I summoned her, didn’t I?” Diego picked up his buzzing phone. “If that’s Markus again... oh, good. It’s from Raj.” He opened the text up; then, with a grin, he passed the phone to Taylor. “I guess I _did_ summon her. Raj sent pics from his Halloween party. It looks like he and Craig finally found a peaceful solution to their Princess Peach argument.”

“What do you –” As she looked at the first picture, Taylor’s jaw dropped. “I don’t believe it.” There was Raj, posing serenely in an elaborate pink dress and a long blonde wig. Flanking him on one side was a grinning Craig, with a red cap and a luxuriant black mustache. And on Raj’s other side.... “Michelle told me that Zahra has never _once_ worn a Halloween costume.”

“First time for everything, right?” Taking the phone back, Diego zoomed in on Zahra, scowling in her thick mustache and green cap. “Princess Peach got to hang out with Mario _and_ Luigi. We have _got_ to print this off and stick it on the wall.”

Taylor looked at him skeptically. “Won’t Zahra be mad about that?”

“Trust me. In the long run, she’ll be a lot madder if we don’t do it.” Putting the phone down again, Diego said, “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Taylor opened her mouth to deny it, to say she didn’t know what he meant; then, with a sigh, she leaned back against the couch. “Petrified. This is going to be my first time going... well, anywhere. What if my passport isn’t good enough to get into San Trobida? What if Estela’s uncle doesn’t like me? What if I get airsick?”

“Okay. In reverse order: Jake always packs Dramamine and ginger drops and lots of barf bags. I’ve met Nicolas and he’s a good guy – he’s probably going to flirt like crazy with you, but don’t take that seriously. And finally, Zahra’s really good and if she can make a convincing fake passport for my big blue husband, yours was probably a piece of cake for her. I mean, we got Varyyn in and out of the States a few times, and even London once. Granted, IRIS was a huge help when it came to causing timely distractions, but that won’t be necessary for you. You and Estela can rehearse how to get through security while you’re on the plane. And she gave you a San Trobida guidebook, right?”

Nodding, Taylor recited from memory (of _the guidebook, or was it Estela’s memory? She wasn’t sure_ ), “The first European settlement was built in 1538, but San Trobida – the name’s a mystery, since no one’s ever been able to verify an actual saint named Trobida or anything similar – wasn’t an independent country until 1797. The capital city is La Colina, named after the hill the original settlement was built on. It’s been peaceful since the revolution. I’m not supposed to ask Nicolas about what he did during the war but he’ll probably start telling stories when he has a few drinks in him. And I still wish you were going with me.”

“You really think it’s necessary to bring a wingman on what’s basically your delayed honeymoon?” Diego answered teasingly. More seriously, he went on, “Sweetie, you’ve got to do this. You need to do it for _you_ , and Estela needs it, too. She wants to take a nice normal trip with her wife, and she really wants you to meet her family – even if Nicolas doesn’t know you’re her wife already. Just... enjoy it, okay?” he finished softly.

“Okay,” Taylor replied. Then, in a rush, she blurted out, “Diego, what if I’m only real here on La Huerta? I mean, that’s possible, right? What if I fade away once we’re off the ground? I could crumble to dust the way the crystals did when I came back. I could –”

“Hey. _Hey._ ” Turning to face her, Diego took Taylor by her shoulders and shook her. “You’re real, okay? You’re real everywhere. You’re going to be real on the plane, and you’ll be real on a train. You’ll be real if you’re on a boat, or if you... meet a goat.”

Startled, Taylor laughed. “Now you’re channeling Dr. Seuss? Seriously?”

“Got you to smile, didn’t it?”

“I... guess it did.” Wrapping her arms around Diego, Taylor gave him a tight hug. “Thanks for talking me off the ledge.”

“Anytime. Normally this is the point when we’d bond over junk food.” Resting his chin on her shoulder, Diego sighed. “I just wish I’d remembered to ask Jake to bring me some Pop-Tarts.”

Without thinking, Taylor said, “The fudge ones, right? I was craving them too, so I had Estela send him a text yesterday.”

“Taylor!” Pulling back, Diego beamed at her. “If you weren’t my best friend before, you definitely are now. Now come on.” Taking her hand again, he stood up and led the way to the kitchen. “Jake’s plane isn’t going to be here for a few hours, so let’s make some stupid fruity drinks with umbrellas. We’ll take them out on the beach and get you into the vacation spirit.”

“Sounds good to me.” Taylor joined Diego in mixing drinks and carrying them outside; but even as they lounged in deck chairs and bickered over the playlist, she still fought to silence the chorus of uneasy questions in the back of her mind.

* * *

Staring blindly at the arrivals board, Taylor tried to calm her racing heart. The plane trip had been blessedly smooth, but that hadn’t kept her from clutching the armrests so hard her fingers were still stiff. She’d kept waiting to ride through another unworldly electrical storm or, even worse, blink entirely out of existence. Estela had stayed beside her except for two brief visits to the pilots’ cabin, and an even briefer visit to the lavatory. She’d started the ride with spurts of awkward conversation – after half an hour, Taylor had realized that her wife was trying to copy Diego’s effortless stream-of-consciousness chatter in an attempt to distract both of them. Finally, Estela had simply wrapped an arm around her shoulders and sat in silence... and that was when Taylor had gradually started to calm down. If Estela held her that tightly, that lovingly, it was impossible for her to disappear.

She jumped as a hand rested lightly on her shoulder. “Shh, _querida,_ it’s all right,” Estela said. “Still no sign of Tio Nicolas. He’s not answering his phone – that’s not so unusual, though, he has a... difficult relationship with technology – so I went to a service desk and asked them to page him.” She sighed in mild irritation. “I knew it was a mistake to let the boys go off on their own. I didn’t want to make you wait alone in a strange place.”

“I’m all right,” Taylor said with a smile. In his own way, Mike had been every bit as nervous as she was. But just like Jake and Estela, she and Mike had gotten through security with no problems, and neither of their passports had received more than a cursory scan from the bored agents. All the same, Jake had immediately pulled Mike toward the exit, promising to call as soon as they arrived at their hotel. “Besides, I really need to get used to this – the whole world is a strange place for me.” Estela didn’t answer, but she took Taylor’s hand in hers and squeezed it gently. “So... should we just wait here with our luggage, or do you want to sit down –”

“Estelita!” Both women whirled around. A tall man wearing a huge smile and carrying two huge bouquets was bearing down on them. Taylor barely had time to notice ( _to remember_ ) his hawk-like nose, his long iron-gray hair, before he’d swept Estela into a tight hug with his free arm. “My apologies, Estelita, but I saw a flower stand outside the airport and I knew what I had to do. We must introduce your friend to the splendor of our country as soon as possible.” Placing a bouquet of yellow roses in Estela’s arms, he kissed her cheek and looked into her eyes before turning to Taylor with a wide smile. “Although these might as well be withered weeds in the face of your beauty. Welcome to San Trobida, Taylor.” Lifting her hand, he kissed the air above her knuckles before offering her a huge mass of sweetly scented pink and white flowers. “Estela never told me what your favorite color is, so I chose the most magnificent flowers I saw.”

“Thank you, Señor Montoya –”

“Señor? Who is this Señor you’re speaking to? I am Nicolas. And perhaps someday – but enough of that.” He grinned at the small collection of luggage next to Taylor. “She’s a good influence on you, Estelita. It’s nice to see you travel with something more than a backpack.” Scanning the crowd, he snapped his fingers at a young man in an expensive suit. “Ah, you’ll do. You’ll be happy to assist us, won’t you?”

The man hesitated. “Me? But I’m –”

Nicolas extended his arm to Taylor. “You’re not about to let this lovely visitor think that we men of San Trobida treat our women like pack animals. That’s what you were going to say. My taxi is waiting just outside.” Before the man could protest any further, Nicolas led Taylor toward the exit. She looked over her shoulder; Estela was lifting one of the bags and, with an extremely confused expression, the stranger was grabbing the others.

After assisting Taylor and Estela into the taxi, Nicolas turned and clapped the befuddled man on both of his shoulders. “ _Gracias, parcero_. Someday you can tell your children that you assisted a hero of the revolution.” Without waiting for an answer, he got into the taxi. Turning to Taylor, he said, “I’m sure you’re tired so we’ll go directly to my house, but tomorrow I’d like to show you my city and all the places where Estelita used to get into trouble.”

“It’ll be a long tour, Tio. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve barely said two words to me,” Estela said fondly.

“Ah, you must forgive me, _chiquilla_ ,” Nicolas told her. “This is the first time I’ve met a... particular friend of yours, and I want to learn all about her.” His face lit up as he pointed out the window. “Right here is the spot where Estelita got into her first fistfight. She won, of course,” he said with pride.

“I’m not surprised,” Taylor said as Estela gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Before she knew it, the taxi was pulling alongside a well-kept house in a quiet neighborhood. As Nicolas paid the driver, Taylor murmured, “He’s not the only one who wants to learn all about me.”

Brushing her lips against Taylor’s cheek, Estela whispered, “It’ll be fine.” She straightened as Nicolas approached, easily carrying all of the luggage. She nodded at the low stone wall surrounding the house. “I see that you have a friend.”

“Still hanging around, you beggar?” Setting the bags by the front door, Nicolas reached out and scratched under the chin of a battle-scarred black cat; it closed its eyes and purred in ecstasy. “This is Guapito. He claims to be my cat. I keep telling him that the food and water I leave outside could be for anyone, but he’s decided it’s for him alone.” Ushering the two women inside, Nicolas said, “Welcome, Taylor!”

Taylor looked around, feeling a strange sort of déjà vu. The house was full of colorful, mismatched furniture, all apparently chosen for comfort and each piece’s individual beauty. Yet somehow, rather than being jumbled or chaotic, it all blended into a casual, relaxed whole. “Your home is beautiful, Nicolas.”

“You flatter me.” He nodded at the stairs. “There are two bedrooms upstairs. They are both small, but they are comfortable.” He leaned toward Taylor and whispered loudly, “I will let the two of you decide who sleeps where.”

“Tio!”

Ignoring his niece’s outburst, Nicolas turned toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you two go upstairs for a bit while I dig out some vases for the flowers? You can wash up and relax after you have seen the bedrooms, or you can come back down for a snack. I believe I’m in the mood for some of the cake my neighbor Maribel brought me this morning. I’m surrounded by ladies of a certain age, and they all think they can win my attention if they give me food.” He turned at the kitchen door and winked. “Some of them are right. I suppose I’m not unlike Guapito in some ways.”

When he’d disappeared, Estela turned to Taylor. “I suppose I should have tried to warn you. Tio Nicolas is....”

“A force of nature?” Taylor said with a smile.

“That’s one way to put it. He likes you already, though. I can tell because otherwise he would have either immediately started to interrogate you, or he’d have smothered you with compliments.” Picking up a few of the bags, Estela led the way upstairs.

“I suppose that’s... wait.” Taylor blinked. “You’re telling me that was him holding back with the compliments?” she asked as she followed Estela.

“Welcome to San Trobida, _querida._ ”

* * *

**_He jerked awake and looked down at his hands – they were large and dark, with long fingers. Wait, how could that be right? Last time they’d been... last time?_ **

**_Confused, he looked at the strangers surrounding him. Who were they? The young man next to him stirred... Diego, he remembered, and he felt calmer immediately._ **

**_“You’re finally awake, huh?” Diego’s smile faded. “You look kind of rough, Taylor. Are you feeling okay? You look like we’re flying into the danger zone, not to a week in paradise.”_ **

**_Taylor? Yes. That sounded right. “The... danger zone?”_ **

**_“Yeah. You know. Top Gun?” Without waiting for an answer, Diego turned to look out the plane’s window. “Hard to believe, but we’re finally on our way....”_ **

Taylor’s eyes flew open and she stared at a strange ceiling. The room was just starting to grow light and cuddled next to her in the twin bed, Estela stirred but didn’t awaken.

Closing her eyes again, Taylor took deep, even breaths until her heartrate slowed again. _I knew Diego’s name before my own,_ she thought. Her dreams sometimes brought up half-memories of the myriad bodies she’d tried on as the time loop reset itself all those times. She’d been male, female ( _genderless those first few cycles_ ), all the races found on Earth until, a few hundred resets into the process, she’d started to drift toward the body she inhabited now. It was the one that had finally felt right, had finally felt like home. But no matter what she looked like, it was always Diego she woke up next to. And no matter what she looked like, it was Estela she turned to peek at.

Estela. Smiling a little, she pressed herself closer to the warm, slumbering body next to hers. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few kisses last night; with a blush, Estela had finally admitted that they were in her childhood bedroom. That didn’t matter to Taylor. It was enough for her, at least for a few nights, to be a part of Estela’s world. She let herself slip back into sleep.

A few hours later, they sat with Nicolas at his kitchen table as they finished breakfast. For the third time, Estela’s phone buzzed and, yet again, she silenced it without looking. “Is something wrong?” Taylor asked.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing.”

“A nothing that keeps calling back,” Nicolas said as he poured more tea for Taylor.

Estela shrugged. “I told the university that I’d be by tomorrow to check on the RI initiatives we’re working on. But ever since they realized that means I’m in La Colina, they suddenly have dozens of questions for me.”

“Is it anything urgent?” Taylor asked. Estela didn’t answer. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Well, they think it’s urgent. It’s about a reforestation program we’re getting started, but it’s nothing that won’t keep until tomorrow. We were going to go sightseeing today, remember?”

Taylor hesitated. Then, trying to sound casual, she said, “You know, if you answer those calls today, your trip to the university won’t eat up all of tomorrow. Maybe Nicolas wouldn’t mind going out with me this morning, and we can all meet up this afternoon?”

“What an excellent idea! And I know just the place.” Nicolas stood up and gathered up the remaining dishes. “Taylor and I can take a bus to the plaza. It won’t take more than a few hours to explore. You can join us there for lunch, Estelita, and then we can all decide what to do with our afternoon.” He looked at Taylor. “And to make you feel truly welcome, I have something that will make you feel like a true _Trobidanita_.”

When he’d left the kitchen, Estela looked at Taylor. “Are you sure about this, _mi vida_?”

Taylor took a deep breath. “Not entirely. But... he said he wants to get to know me. If he asks questions when we’re both around, you’re going to try to jump in with answers and if he wasn’t already suspicious, he would be then. You know it’s true,” she said gently when Estela started to protest. “And I’m going to have to talk to someone besides other Catalysts and Vaanti someday. It might as well be now, with someone I trust.”

“You trust Tio Nicolas?” Estela asked, sounding pleased in spite of herself.

“I do. I can’t say why, but I do.”

Both women looked up as Nicolas came back in, carrying a square of tissue paper. He put it on the table and started to unwrap it, and Estela’s eyes widened. “Tio, is that...?”

“It is,” Nicolas said proudly as he lifted a finely embroidered silk shawl from the paper. “This belonged to my mother, to Estelita’s grandmother, and now it is yours.” He draped the shawl around Taylor’s shoulders.

“Oh, I couldn’t... it’s lovely!” Taylor ran a finger along the brightly colored flowers. “Nicolas, I couldn’t possibly –”

“You couldn’t possibly refuse,” Nicolas said smoothly. “It’s bad luck to refuse a host’s gift. That’s an ancient Trobidan tradition which I created just now.” Bending down to kiss Taylor’s cheek, he gave her and Estela a warm smile. “Now put your shoes on, my dear. We will explore the city and enjoy ourselves while my niece makes her boring phone calls.”

Once they were downtown, Taylor began to relax as Nicolas led her around the plaza and the surrounding streets, showing her points of interest – as promised, tales of Estela’s misdeeds were sprinkled throughout his stories. When they came upon a group of children playing soccer, Nicolas laughed. “They will need to improve their footwork if we ever hope to win the World Cup.” Taylor looked down as a ball bounced toward her. Instinctively, she stuck out her foot to stop it and with a quick, deliberate flick, she sent it directly back to the small boy running toward her. Nicolas looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Well done, my dear. Estela didn’t tell me you played _futbol._ ”

Shrugging, Taylor said, “It was back in school.” ( _not her school, not her childhood, not her few happy summers on the soccer field before her foster parents decided there wasn’t any point in paying extra to keep her on the team / his parents started to worry that he might have a crush on one of the other midfielders_ ) Looking around, she said, “I love the architecture here. Is this the oldest part of the city?”

“It is. Salazar did his best to destroy it, but we held him off. If we go around this corner – here it is!” He led Taylor proudly to a few gouges in the stone wall. “If Luz Colon hadn’t pulled me down, one of those bullets would have gone right here.” He pointed to a spot between his eyes. “The building’s owner tried to repair this wall, but I convinced him to leave it as a reminder of what can happen when we allow dictators to gain power. And if you look right over there....” Nicolas pointed to a tall spire beyond the plaza. “That is San Cristobal, the oldest surviving building in La Colina. Typically, the first two buildings the conquistadors built were a fortress to keep the natives out, and a church to save their souls. The walls have fallen, but the church remains.” He grinned. “We should stop there later. Padre Mateo is an old friend of mine. We were children together and rebels together. He is old now – somehow I’m sure that he’s much older than I am, and I don’t understand how that could have happened. He’s the most popular priest our church has. Everyone goes to him with their problems, but no one goes to him for their confessions. He’s a good man but he’s always had a problem keeping secrets. Ah!” His face lit up as they neared a cluster of small tables on the sidewalk. “It’s time to introduce you to one of the pleasures of my city.” Pulling out one of the delicate-seeming iron chairs, he held out an arm with a flourish. “Why don’t you sit down, my dear, and I’ll be right back.” After seeing that Taylor was comfortably seated, he ducked into a small cafe.

Taylor looked around the crowded, colorful square as she readjusted the shawl. She wasn’t sure why she felt so relaxed around Nicolas. Was it simply another trace memory that she’d absorbed from Estela – he was her uncle, after all, and she knew how dearly she loved him – or was it something about the man himself?

 _“Buen provecho_!”

Taylor looked at the colorful glass Nicolas placed in front of her. “It’s almost too pretty to eat. What is it?”

“These are _cholados_ _–_ I grew very fond of them when I was living in Colombia. At the risk of being unpatriotic, they’re not quite as good here in San Trobida, but I think you’ll like them anyway.” Sitting down in the other chair, Nicolas took a bite.

Scooping up a spoonful, Taylor followed his lead. It was cold and sweet; she tasted pineapple and cherry, and crunchy bits of toasted coconut, and some sort of berry syrup mixed in with the thick sweet milk. “This is amazing! I’ve got to learn to make these for Estela.”

“She’ll appreciate that. Do you like to cook?” Nicolas asked casually.

“I’m not sure yet,” Taylor said automatically. Nicolas gave her a sharp look. “I... I mean, I enjoy eating. And I’ve got a friend who’s a really good cook, and another who can bake like a dream....” She trailed off.

Nicolas looked at his spoon. He tapped it against his glass several times; then, decisively, he set it down. He gave Taylor a penetrating stare. “As I am sure Estela has told you, I was a revolutionary for many years. Estela has told me that she loves you, but that’s all she’s told me. You are clearly a young woman of many secrets, and I understand that some secrets must be kept. Much can depend on a secret. It can save a life, or it can end one. So. I will not ask what secrets you are keeping, but I still must ask you some questions, for the sake of my Estelita.”

Taylor nodded. She’d been dreading this; all the same, now that the moment had arrived, she felt strangely calm. “I understand. And... I promise that I’ll answer your questions honestly.”

“ _Gracias_.” Nicolas paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Does Estela know your secrets?”

“Every one of them,” Taylor replied instantly. She thought back to the chilling, terrifying moment after their wedding when she’d realized that she had no memories of a life beyond La Huerta. “When I discovered that... my life wasn’t what I thought it was, Estela was the first person I told. She knows as much about me as I do.”

Nicolas nodded slowly. “I see. And have you ever lied to her?”

“Never... no. That isn’t true. I....” Taylor blinked back tears. “I lied five years ago when I said I wouldn’t ever leave her. I didn’t want to – oh, _God,_ I didn’t want to – but it was the only way.”

Impassively, Nicolas passed her a paper napkin and waited a few moments before he spoke again. “Why would you ever lie to her in the future?”

Taylor nearly said _I would never_ – but the words caught in her throat. That wasn’t the question Nicolas had asked and she had promised him honesty. “I... would lie to save her life again. I wouldn’t lie to spare her feelings or to keep her from being angry at me. I....” She swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t even lie to keep her with me. Estela and I... we both know what lies can do.”

Nicolas sighed, and his eyes went to the sky above. “Yes. And... how long will you love my Estelita?”

“Until the sun swallows the Earth,” she replied instantly.

Meeting her eyes, Nicolas said, “That is what every young person says.” There was no condemnation in his voice.

“I know.” Taylor gave him a small smile. “But for Estela and me, it’s the truth. There’s no one else on this planet for me. Literally.”

“Hmm.” Nicolas was quiet for a few moments. Finally, he said, “When Estela first returned from La Huerta, she was full of a grief she could not explain to me. I... can’t say that her grief faded over the years, but it seemed that she learned to adjust to having it inside her. I have met her friends – I have met her brother, and to my shock, I like him very much – and I’ve seen how they’ve helped her find a way through her sadness.” He gave Taylor another sharp look. “You know the cause of Estela’s grief, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, but Taylor nodded anyway. “When I saw Estelita yesterday... for the first time in five years, there wasn’t a trace of grief in her eyes and not even a whisper of sadness. And for the first time since my sister died, there wasn’t any anger in her eyes either. You are here, and her grief is gone.”

“During the time we were apart....” Taylor searched for words. Finally, the only ones she could find were, “I need her as much as she needs me. I know how trite that sounds, and I know that it doesn’t really tell you anything about me. I... can’t explain how or why we came together. All I can tell you is that Estela and I are both where we’re meant to be.”

“I see.” Nicolas picked up his spoon again. With a kind smile, he looked at Taylor and said, “We should finish these while they’re still cold. They’re not bad when the ice melts a little, but we should enjoy them as....” His smile widened. “As they’re meant to be.”

After they’d resumed their walk, arms linked together, Nicolas pointed to a toy shop. “Do you mind if we look in here? Estelita told me that the two of you are going to celebrate Christmas with her brother and his family and I’d like to send a gift for the little boy. When we met in London last year – so cold and damp, I don’t know how any civilized person could live there – I asked Grace if she minded that since Reggie is my niece’s nephew, I consider myself his _tio abuelo_. She hugged me and said that it was impossible for a child to have too many people who loved him.” He grinned down at Taylor. “That young woman is much stronger than she looks.”

Taylor laughed. “You have no idea.” Once inside the store, they separated as they wandered the aisles. Taylor paused in front of a display of handmade kaleidoscopes. She picked one up; the beads and glass chips inside rattled slightly. She lifted it to her eye and gave it a turn, then another.

“Ah! That would be an excellent choice!” Nicolas exclaimed from behind her. He picked up another and looked into it. “He might be just a little young yet, but I’ve always liked these. No matter how many times you peer into them, you always see something beautiful.”

“...You do, don’t you?” Taylor gave her kaleidoscope another turn as she shifted to face the light, and the brilliantly colored shards blurred into a new vivid display. “Every time you twist it around... all these little pieces make a new picture. It’s new every time, but it’s... complete.” Lowering the kaleidoscope, she smiled and her heart lifted with an unexpected burst of joy. “You can’t predict what it’ll turn into, but all the same, it becomes exactly what it’s meant to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> "San Trobida" has been driving me nuts because there really doesn't seem to be a Saint Trobida, or anything close to that. The best match I could find is "trobada," which is apparently a Catalan word for 'meeting,' Now I have this ridiculously convoluted headcanon that the name comes from an early settler from Barcelona who had lousy handwriting.


End file.
